


Regrets Collect Like Old Friends

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Culture, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Infidelity, F/F, Identity Issues, Reunions, Symbiotic Relationship, Trills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7723927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezri meets Lenara for the first time-- or perhaps more accurately Dax meets Kahn for the first time again.  Sorting out succession is a complicated matter like that, for joined Trill.</p><p> “Every time we meet, you’re younger.  Like you are slipping backwards through time, and I am standing still.”</p><p>“I fell in love, I died, I fell in love again.  A lot has happened since we last met.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets Collect Like Old Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katiemariie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/gifts).



Ezri, sprawled on her living room couch and surrounded by back issues of the _Federation Psychology Journal_ , twitches her foot with restlessness.  She lifts herself up to do cartwheels and round-offs across the room, hoping that movement will stimulate her concentration-- it always would for Emony.  After spending all day catching up on the latest techniques for grief therapy, cooped up in her quarters, she’s suffering from a touch of cabin fever. 

 

When Kira had pulled her aside after the staff meeting last week to discuss the upcoming wormhole study, Ezri hadn’t thought it would be a problem for her to stay in her quarters while the scientists were around.  Kira had been surprised, but relieved, that Ezri was willing to make herself scarce while the Trill science delegation-- and in particular the lead scientist Lenara Kahn-- was conducting research on the station.  

 

However, it wasn’t cowardice or anxiety about what would happen if she was reunited with such a prominent figure from her past that had led to that decision, but simple practicality.  Ezri meant what she had told Kira though: there was no point in making life more difficult for herself when she could easily avoid being confronted with the baggage of past hosts.  Unlike Worf, who during the war she had to work with closely, Lenara would be gone in several days.  If Jadzia hadn’t been prepared for how this ghost from the past would overwhelm her, with all the host training she had received to deal with these types of issues, then there was no reason for Ezri with her inexperience to push her luck in this regard.  

 

Ezri has enough difficulty figuring out who she is during daily routines, so meeting with the woman who had so definitively rejected her (Jadzia’s) foolhardy professions of love would be ill-advised at best.

 

Besides, Ezri doesn’t need any extra strain on her relationship with Julian these days.  He already hadn’t responded well to the news of Lenara’s arrival:

 

“Just several years ago you were willing to throw away your life for this Dr. Kahn, who might I remind you is your  _ ex-wife _ and  _ ex-lover _ ,” he had pointed out, as if the way Jadzia’s heart had sank upon locking eyes with an ambivalent Lenara as she walked into the Trill shuttlecraft and out of Jadzia’s life wasn’t burned into Dax’s memory forever.  “You can’t be considering a reunion with her, no matter how amicable you think it will be or how balanced your psychological stability is these days.”

 

“The Kahn I was married to was several lifetimes ago, and Jadzia was willing to try again, but I’m Ezri now, and I have  _ you _ , even if you don’t have faith in my ability to make these decisions for myself.”  

 

They had sniped back and forth at each other, until Ezri finally admitted that she had already planned on avoiding contact with Lenara.  She could have led with that -- the lashing out at each other had been defensive on both their parts, and Julian has good reason to be insecure about the situation, she knows that logically -- but the audacity of his condescension still stung.

 

Luckily, her plan to spend these few days studying therapy techniques (joining may have given her wisdom, but it was no replacement for rote knowledge) in her quarters had resolved the major contention between her and Julian.  Or at least held it at bay.  What’s more, Julian had gone out of his way to smooth over the situation -- stopping by to keep her company during breaks throughout the day, acquiring relevant medical research in her field, and even offering to welcome Lenara to the station himself.  

 

This was all very sweet of him, and Ezri is certainly relieved to not be fighting, but the burr of him not immediately trusting her judgement had lodged under her skin, an irritation she would have to deal with eventually.

 

In any case, this dull evening Julian hadn’t been able to rearrange his schedule (his main assistant had succumbed to a nasty case of Tellarite flu), and he had to pull an extra night shift.  So now Ezri is alone and bored, staring at the walls that have been closing in on her all day.  It’s only when she finds herself glancing over at the communicator screen wondering if she should respond to her mother’s holomessage that she realizes how claustrophobic the room has become.

 

If she’s bored enough to contemplate calling her mom, then the cabin fever is more severe than she thought.

 

She checks the time, 2300 hours, and heads out the door with vague thoughts of a refreshing springwine at Quark’s.  It’ll be fine; Lenara is almost certainly in bed.

 

\------------

 

After a few rounds of dabo, and joking around with Morn at the bar, Ezri feels refreshed and ready to go back to bed, the perfect balm to overloading herself all day with academic texts and subconscious worrying about her relationship with Julian.

 

She heads out the second level exit down the upper Promenade, a spring in her step, when the sight of a familiar blonde up-do -- hair pulled back to clearly display the Trill spots curving up a long neck -- stops her in her tracks.  

 

An elegant woman stands in front of the sharp ellipse windows, transfixed by the heavens beyond.  

 

Ezri could sneak by, stepping lightly, without the woman ever knowing they crossed paths.  That would be the prudent thing to do, keeping in line with what she promised Kira and Julian.

 

But really, there isn’t the same unfinished business between Ezri and this woman that there had been with her and Worf, or Torias and Nilani.  The particular regal curve of Lenara’s figure reflected back in the window’s surface evokes something deep in Ezri’s heart, and she knows that if she doesn’t stop to at least say hello, she’ll always regret it.  

 

Dax has always been known for their impulsiveness; Ezri is unlike any previous Dax, but certainly no exception to this.

 

Besides, it would be rude to just ignore the contemplative lilt of Lenara’s posture, body language which Dax subconsciously registers as wistful, sad, longing for company.

 

Ezri takes a deep breath and walks up to the Trill woman.  “Hey, nice view right?  The stars are lovely this time of night.”

 

Lenara turns her head, and as her eyes scan over Ezri, like a dream a slow smile spreads across her face.  

 

Ezri flushes.  “I mean the stars look like they always do I suppose, whatever the chronometer says, but I meant that this time of night, when no one’s around-- it’s nice.  They seem more peaceful or--”

 

“Yes, I’m enjoying the view tonight,” Lenara says, that peculiar smile still lingering on her lips like it carries a secret, her eyes glinting with amusement as they gaze steadily into Ezri’s.

 

The effect leaves Ezri off balance, and she breaks her gaze, fidgeting, before thrusting her hand out in greeting. “I’m uh, I’m Ezri.  Dax.  I’m Ezri Dax.”

 

Lenara’s grin grows wider, and she lets out a small chuckle.  “Yes, I know.”  She takes Ezri’s hand into her own, holding it lightly rather than shaking it, then inclines her head.  “Please to meet you again, Dax.”

 

“I’m glad you think so,” Ezri says, just for something to say, because all her attention is pinpointed onto the feel of the dry smooth skin of Lenara’s delicate fingers wrapped around her own, warmth spreading up her arm from their entwined hands.  She squeezes and lets go.  “I didn’t… I didn’t expect to run into you this time of night.  I remember you’d always go to bed early, the first night sleeping in a new place.  Something about circadian rhythms.”

 

Lenara raises her eyebrow in slight surprise, then gazes back out the window.  “I couldn’t sleep, being at this station again.  It’s funny how memories layer onto physical places, isn’t?  Forgive me for such esoteric brooding, but this hideous pointed architecture, with such a contrasting mixture of sharp edges and swooping arcs, sends me to a peculiar pensive state of mind.  I thought watching the stars for a while would help find perspective.  The stars are always just stars to me; full of science and beauty and math, but they aren’t personal.  They just are.”  Lenara turns back to make eye contact with Ezri.  “No regrets lie hidden in their twinkling to keep me from dreaming.”

 

Lenara’s voice has a distant preoccupied quality, but her blazing golden eyes imbue this sentence with an intensity that leaves Ezri reeling.  It’s not just the dreamy words, or Lenara’s physical beauty, that leaves Ezri breathless in this moment, but that those eyes, so unmistakably  _ Kahn _ , pierce through her to see  _ Dax _ .  

 

Ezri says the first thing that pops in her mind, trying to put the conversation back on solid ground.  “Do you remember Benjamin?  Sisko, he used to be the Captain here.  Anyway, he’s out there right now, part of the wormhole or something.”  Ezri gestures towards the blank area of space where the wormhole would be when it opens.  “Whenever I look out this window, I think of him.  Even the stars and sky become personal if you give it long enough.”

 

Lenara tilts her head.  “He was the one that would call you ‘old man’, because of Curzon?”

 

Ezri shrugs.  “Benjamin was friends with Curzon first, but I think that was just his way of establishing…. I don’t know, that our friendship transcends lifetimes.”

 

“...does ours?”  The weight of their history again hangs in the words left unsaid, and this combined with standing so close to the empty distance of space beyond the window gives Ezri a touch of vertigo.

 

Her mouth suddenly dry, Ezri swallows nervously and breaks the moment, glancing down at her chronometer.  “I uhh, it’s really late.  I have to-- I have to go, but it was nice.  To see you.”

 

Lenara smiles, then leans in close.  Ezri stiffens, the soft powdery smell of Lenara’s skin flooding her nose, and lips parted her body unconsciously responds to Lenara’s proximity.  Lenara places a light peck on her check before stepping back, the two feet between them as vast as the void between the station and the nearest star.

 

“I know you were trying to avoid me,” Lenara says, her smile serene and sad, “but I do hope we’ll see each other again,” then turns back to the pinpoints of light in a sea of darkness beyond the windows.  Ezri can’t help but drink in the sight of Lenara, so beautiful with that distinctive reserved elegance contained in the lines of her body, then strides off quickly back to her quarters, afraid that if she stays any longer Dax’s well-known impulsiveness would take over to more deleterious effect.

 

She resolves not to tempt the inevitable again.

 

\------------

 

Julian is standing outside her door when she walks up, her eyes full of stars and lungs slightly out of breath from both the weight of the encounter and her quick pace.

 

Her boyfriend’s face erupts into that goofy grin of his, but Lenara’s sly cheshire smile is still fresh in Ezri’s mind.  “Oh hello!   I was just about to override the controls with a medical emergency, in case you were in urgent need of my company.  I’m a romantic rebel, for you.”  He chuckles.

 

“What a devious abuse of power,” Ezri teases, giving him a side hug before opening the door, and they step inside.  “How was the late shift?”

 

Julian yawns and begins undressing for bed.  “Fine, fine.  Pretty quiet, so I was able to hack away at testing possible compounds to treat the presolik virus.”  He frowns while yanking off a boot.  “I thought you weren’t leaving the habitat ring today?  Did Dr. Kahn leave already?”

 

“I just went to Quark’s for a drink,” Ezri says testily.  “There’s only so much reading one can do in a day.”

 

“Alright then, well that’s fine then as long as you didn’t track down Lenara and throw yourself at her again.”  Julian laughs, as if to lighten the mood, as if this were a ridiculous hyperbole, but it hits too close to not sting.

 

“I did end up bumping into Lenara, but not on purpose.  We had a short, polite conversation; no one throwing themselves at the other.”  Ezri rubs her cheek, where Lenara’s lips linger like the warmth of tea in an empty mug.  “The plan was to avoid the extra stress, but I figured there was no harm in saying hello.”

 

Julian is taken aback at this news.  “Isn’t there?  You wouldn’t want one thing to lead to another.”  He gestures with his hands, laying out a logical sequence of events as inevitable.

 

“I was never worried about  _ acting _ on old memories.  I’m past that.  There’s no need to be jealous.”  Ezri tries to put her arms around him, but Julian shakes her off, arms crossed over himself scowling.

 

“Jealous?!  I was there, last time, when you had dinner with  _ her _ , and I sat there dutifully.  As your friend, listening to years of shared memories and inside jokes that I knew I’d never be able to compete with.  I was happy to be supportive of you that night, but now, you and me… our relationship has changed.”

 

“Those memories were Torias’-- and Curzon’s-- and  _ Jadzia  _ was the one who wanted to reunite with Lenara.  You and I, we’re more than friends, but I’m not Jadzia, not  _ only  _ her anyway, and Lenara doesn’t even know me as Ezri.  I’m just asking for a little trust from you.”

 

“So you think you two can be friends?  Without anything happening?”

 

“I hadn’t planned on it, or even meeting up with her again, but maybe.  I wouldn’t discount it.”

 

“I would.  I don’t want you to see her again.  For my sake.  It’s not outrageous for me to be worried about… old flames.  I’ve pined after you for so long, and I don’t want to lose you.”

 

“ _Lose me_?  I didn’t have plans to see her again, but you can’t ban me from talking to someone, certainly not because of your history with Jadzia.  I’m _Ezri_ Dax, and I’m not here to give everyone a second chance at Jadzia-- not Worf, _not_ Lenara, and definitely not _you_ \--”

 

“That’s not what I--”

 

“What if I banned you from ‘friendship’ with old lovers?  Don’t think I haven’t noticed you writing tomes in the middle of the night, reading and rereading letters from--”

 

“It’s just-- stories!  About pre-occupation Cardassia, and how, uh, they’re all dealing with everything after the Dominion War, Cardassians generally--”

 

“They’re letters from  _ Garak _ , which I wouldn’t be concerned about except that you felt the need to hide your correspondence from me.  He’s my friend too, but he’s something more than that to you.  I have one short conversation with Lenara, and you freak out, and meanwhile I see the way your eyes go soft when anyone mentions him, and I don’t know what’s going on with that, and it hurts, but I chose to trust you.”

 

Julian sputters.  “It’s not the same, Garak’s not even on the station!  He’s light years away on Cardassia!”

 

“I know!  And Lenara will be heading back to Trill in a couple days.  But both of us will be here still.”  Her face falls and she says softly, “Together, I hope.”

 

“Yes, together,” Julian says, his voice strained.

 

Silence hangs in the air, but the apology Ezri expects to follow doesn’t come.  She certainly doesn’t want to give one.

 

When they share physical intimacy that night, it’s out of habit more than anything else.  Julian traces the outlines of her face, as if searching for ridges that aren’t there, and Ezri kisses his long, unmarked neck, thinking of elegant curves and delicate spots.  Once they finish, Julian rolls over to his side of the bed without a word, facing the wall.  

 

There are fissures now, in the foundation of their relationship -- a radiating spiderweb of cracks that threaten to topple everything between them down.  Maybe they were never standing on solid ground.  Maybe they’ve been looking past each other the entire time.

 

\------------

 

The next day, still unsettled by the previous evening, Ezri lasts until 1900 hours, keeping herself busy with planning out future sessions for grief therapy group meetings, before she realizes Julian probably isn’t coming by for dinner.  She considers comming him to see what he’s up to, but hesitates.  She wants company, but still isn’t sure how to address whatever transpired between them last night.

 

She shouldn’t do this, she knows she shouldn’t, but she also feels like she has something to prove to both herself and Julian.  She hesitates for only a moment before telling the computer to send another message.  

 

“Lenara, Meet me for dinner at Quark’s, if you’re amenable.  Top floor, one hour. -- Ezri.”

 

Ezri spends that hour considering whether she should wear the earrings Lenara gave Jadzia, before deciding that that’s a step too far.  She’s not Torias, but she’s also not Jadzia.  Not a wife; not a long-lost lover.  A new friend.

 

\------------

 

Belly full of flittering nerves, Ezri downs a stardrifter cocktail at the bar before seeking out a table tucked away near the back, hoping Lenara will find her there.  Hoping that Lenara will even come.

 

She’s not disappointed.  Lenara floats into view, refined and self-contained.  In contrast, Ezri feels like a shabby imitation of her former self, a naive child with her short hair she can’t always get to lie down right, young and easily flustered and jittery.  No one Lenara would want to bother getting to know, and Ezri wonders if this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

 

“I’m surprised-- pleased-- we are able to meet again.  Thank you for inviting me to dinner, although--”  Lenara makes a show of glancing around, then leans in as if she has a juicy secret.  Ezri, heart thudding, holds her breath and leans in.  “--I don’t see your young doctor friend chaperoning us this time.”

 

“I can handle myself, there’s no reason for my boyf --” Ezri starts, defensive, but remembering _ right she’s talking about last time with Jadzia _ .  “Oh, I mean no, Dr. Bashir won’t be joining us.  Joined Trill are supposed to branch out to new experiences, aren’t they?”  Ezri still has on the tip of her tongue  _ Julian’s my boyfriend now _ , but for some reason it won’t leave her mouth and she swallows it down.  It’s not relevant and would sound like overcompensation, anyway.

 

“Yet here we are, having dinner together at the same space station, same strange tension between us.”

 

“It’s not the same at all; I have a new face this time,” Ezri jokes, steering the conversation away from more serious matters.  “It’s nice to be able to see you again.  I mean, after yesterday, but also after… I’m glad you came, that’s all.  You look well.”

 

“Thanks,” Lenara says, smoothing a hand over her own cheek, as if checking.  She gives a wry smile.  “Every time I see you, you’re younger.  You should learn to take better care of your hosts.”

 

“You know very well that I’m over three hundred years old.”  Ezri smirks, still desperately trying to keep the mood light and topics casual.   
  


“Well your new fresh face certainly doesn’t do me any favors.  I see a new wrinkle every time I look in the mirror.”  Lenara bats her eyes, obviously fishing for a compliment, and Ezri jumps at the chance to give it to her.   
  


“You’re-- beautiful.  The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”  Ezri maintains steady eye contact, serious and intense.

 

Lenara beams at the praise, but the glow of her happiness doesn’t last long, and a determined furrow settles between her brows.  “Please don’t start anything we aren’t going to follow through on.”

 

“I’m not!  I’m really-- I’m really not.  This is only dinner, a reconnection.  I want us to be  _ friends _ .”  Ezri shrugs.  “I fell in love, I died, I fell in love again.  I look younger, but I certainly don’t feel it.  A lot has happened since I last saw you.”

 

“Oh-- of course-- I didn’t meant to assume--” Lenara says, flustered.

 

“You thought I was still broken up about you-- choosing Trill over me?”  So much for keeping the mood light; may as well confront the issue head on.  Ezri has never been one to dance around uncomfortable conversation, so there’s no reason to start now.

 

Lenara nods guardedly.

 

Ezri takes a deep breath and expels in a huff.  “I… it hurt, I won’t spare you that, but it feels like ancient history now.”

 

Lenara’s face falls slightly.  “It was only three years ago.  I’m still assigned to the same research project.  I’m still the same person, and I regret-- I regret putting you in that position, but I did what I thought was right at the time.”

 

Ezri shrugs, not quite sure if that’s meant to be a real apology or not.  “I have Torias’ regret over not listening to Nilani, I have Curzon’s regret over how he treated Jadzia, Audrid’s regret over her rift with my daughter Neema… I’m a bubbling hot spring of unfinished lives, wayward emotions threatening to boil over at any moment… but Jadzia didn’t have regret.  I put it all on the line for you, I took that risk.  It didn’t pay off, but… then I pursued Worf and we married.  Jadzia fought for love every step of the way.  Her life ended unfinished, more so than most lives I mean, but she doesn’t have regret for taking risks, even when they ended in heartbreak.”

 

“Oh. I--” Lenara looks vulnerable and shy.  “I shouldn’t have left.  I should have--”  She shakes her head.  “Courageous Dax and cautious Kahn, what a pair we make.  Well, that’s in the past.  This is now.”

 

“Sorting out my past from my present has been especially difficult, with this joining.  It’s okay, really.  Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

 

They place their orders with a Ferengi waiter that stops by, and conversation flows easy.  Lenara discusses her current artificial wormhole research, the twinkle of passion and discovery in her eye.  They still haven’t come any closer to creating a stable wormhole in any definitive sense, and there’s a growing faction of skeptical Bajorans backlashing against the idea of mortals transgressing on what they see as the Prophets’ work, but there’s always more work to do to get there.  Maybe it’s progress, maybe not, but Lenara is happy to be part of the process.  

 

Ezri tells her about life after the Dominion War-- she doesn’t engage in scientific research like Jadzia or engine mechanics like Tobin, but Audrid’s emotional maturity, Curzon’s diplomacy, and Lela’s political savvy have helped contribute to Ezri’s professional development immeasurably.  Everyone needs a counselor these days, and even if only a small percentage will admit that it still overwhelms Ezri to keep up sometimes.  It’s worth it though, for the small breakthroughs she’s sometimes able to help guide her patients through.  Lenara listens, enraptured and admiring, and Ezri drinks in her attention.

 

Eventually there’s a lull in the conversation, and they finish their meals in companionable silence.

 

“It feels like… you’re slipping through time, and here I am standing still,” Lenara says suddenly, her voice distant and wistful rather than the easy-going tone it previously had.

 

“Slipping?” Ezri says, face screwed up in confusion.  “Do you see me as regressing or moving forward?  It’s been difficult-- everything is both too new and too familiar all at once, but I think I’ve been doing pretty okay, considering.”

 

“Neither.  Both.  I’ve been through one host since we were together, and here you are on your third.  You have the unfamiliar fresh face of youth, but your eyes are the same deep pools of wisdom that are unmistakably  _ Dax _ .“

 

“Fourth host.  Well, fifth technically?  Two of them weren’t supposed to happen.  Fourth and a half?”

 

Lenara is taken aback, but doesn’t ask.  “That just proves my point.  As a joined Trill, I should be used to this, but I’m not.  Not with you.  I can’t.  You’re always… you’re Ezri, now of course, but to me you’re always the same Dax, with that unrepentant thirst for progress and novelty.  I admire that.  I’ve always played it safe.”

 

“Well look where it’s got me.  There are few things I’ve done that I would want to change -- the shuttlecraft accident of course is one exception --  but stability is a worthwhile pursuit as well.  What I wouldn’t give to spend one day where I don’t feel in over my head--”

 

“It’s overrated.  That which stands still dies, like a lekta flower with petals that fall off one by one,” Lenara says bitterly, picking apart a paper napkin in her hands.

 

“I didn’t know you were a poet too.”  Ezri reaches over to still Lenara’s hands, stroking those long delicate fingers beneath her thumb.  “Or maybe it’s like the caterpillar who eats those petals before wrapping itself up in a cocoon, storing energy for its emergence, winged and ready to fly.”

 

“Are you talking about me or yourself, Ezri Dax?”

 

Ezri shrugs, not really sure what to say to that.  She squeezes Lenara’s hand and sits back.  Silence hums as they mull over words hanging in the air.  It’s not awkward, but not entirely comfortable, like they’re standing at the edge of an airlock, the vast unknown of space looming beyond and willing themselves not to jump into it.  

 

A Ferengi waiter stops by to pick up their empty plates, and they both order the recommended digestif, even though their faces are flushed from the springwine they drank with dinner, and it’s getting late.  Neither are ready to end the evening on this note.

 

“You said you fell in love again.  Might I inquire...?”

 

“Yes, Julian actually.  The one that, uh, went to dinner with us before.  He’s my, um, boyfriend I guess.  We’re in love.” Ezri grimaces, and before she can stop, words tumble out as she tries to compensate for how false that profession sounded out loud.  Lenara watches her impassively.  “Or we usually are, the last time I saw him we had this silly fight, over you actually, as if you were only here to sweep me off my feet.  Which is utterly ridiculous-- you an accomplished, settled scientist, who was in love-- I mean who was  _ attracted  _ to the Dax I used to be, the one who knew what the hell they were doing, not this nervous fumbling fresh from the academy mess that--  Oh gosh.  Um I can’t seem to stop, but that was inappropriate to say, you’re not interested, I’ll stop now.”   Ezri mimes zipping her mouth closed and throwing away the key.

 

“Your boyfriend, whom you’re usually in love with.”  Lenara smiles that slow grin of hers, like a Terran house cat, like this is crucial information that confirms a theory.  Ezri can’t find it in herself to bother correcting the statement and feels immediately guilty for letting this conversation get so out of hand. 

Ezri shrugs, not willing to open her mouth again in case any further attempted explanations reveal how the longer Lenara’s liquid eyes gaze into hers, the deeper she falls.

 

“I don’t remember you being quite this chatty!  Torias’ impulsiveness was always so action-oriented,” Lenara teases.

 

“I’m not Torias.  This is Ezri, word vomit and all,” Ezri says sheepishly.

 

“Well, Dax, you get more wonderful each time I meet you.”

 

Ezri’s breath catches in her throat.  Lenara’s again golden eyes look straight through her -- past Ezri’s youth, past Jadzia’s romanticism, past Curzon’s humor -- penetrating through the layers of lives and loves and confusion that now comprises the totality of Ezri Dax.  

 

Her heart pounds as Lenara then glances as Ezri’s lips.  Like the gravity of a planet pulling a new moon into its orbit, they lean in towards each other, achingly slow, until they hover inches from each other.  Lenara keeps her eyes open, watching intently and ready to bolt at the first sign of hesitation from Ezri.  

 

As they share breath, Lenara’s soft, powdery scent overwhelms Ezri’s senses; after being surrounded by aliens every day, the only Trill on the station, Lenara smells like  _ home _ , and a part of Ezri relaxes that she didn’t know had been under stress until now.  Wanting to draw out the tension of the moment a bit longer, she savors the sensation.  Like her body has been asleep for years, and it’s only now waking up.  

 

Sure, she loves Julian’s musky human scent, his alien plain face -- unridged, unspotted, but no one would claim that detracted from his boyish good looks -- and his good-natured company, but making love with him has never approached the level of intoxication that dancing on the precipice of meeting Lenara’s lips has in this moment.  Maybe Ezri’s only been going through the motions with Julian, hoping that his penchant for lost causes would help her piece together her fractured identity, but this evening, with Lenara, for the first time in forever she doesn’t feel broken or lost, and-- 

 

Oh shit  _ Julian _ .  Ezri winces, pulling away abruptly, and Lenara flinches at the movement, the hurt evident in her face.

 

The sound of a repressed cough several feet away, far too close to their secluded table in the mostly empty restaurant, disrupts the tense moment.  Ezri jumps violently in her seat, banging her knee against the table leg.

 

“ _ Ow _ .”

 

“Don’t stop on my account!  I was only dropping by to see if either of you lovebirds would care for dessert tonight, but it seems you’ve brought your own sugar.”  Quark, holding a tray with a lavish chocolate cake, waggles his brow ridges meaningfully.

 

They stare at him for a moment, not sure whether to be grateful or irritated at his interruption.  

 

Ezri stands up, scooting the chair back so it makes an abrupt screeching noise against the floor, and Quark winces at the sound.  “I can’t do this, Lenara.  You know I can’t do this.”

 

“Dax, please-- the science delegation leaves tomorrow morning, but I need you to know--” Lenara pleads, wide-eyed. 

 

“I’m sorry.  It’s for the best.  Good luck with your research.  With everything,” Ezri says softly, face pinched with the effort of holding back emotion, then averts her eyes from Lenara’s crumpled face and elbows her way past Quark.  

 

Quark, cake perched precariously, calls after her, “Was it something I said?”

 

\----------

 

Ezri should talk to Julian, but she needs to sort out her jumbled thoughts first.  Was he right that she shouldn’t have met with Lenara?  That she and Lenara can never maintain a platonic distance, that Ezri is doomed to repeat her former lives despite her best intentions otherwise, until Dax can finally move on to a host who’s prepared to handle the complications of being joined?

 

Or would it be wrong to continue fumbling through things with Julian, who still sees her as an incarnation of Jadzia?  Whose kisses are pleasant, nice, but never electrifying; whose arms are comforting and warm, but will never feel like home; whose own heart lies on a distant decimated planet?  Would he have been interested in her, if he hadn't had such a long crush on Jadzia beforehand?  Would it be fair to lead him on with the hopes of making something work that won’t?

 

It’s too much to figure out in one night, and besides Julian probably has to pull another late shift.  There’s no use troubling him with this nonsense in her head after he’s had a long day.  Or so she lets herself believe.

 

\----------

 

She tosses and turns all night, past experiences and current anxieties rattling around in her head.  

 

_ Lela, who was the first to be joined, the first woman on the council, who didn’t know what she was doing, but forged ahead anyway with courage and zeal -- _

 

_ Jadzia, who thirsted to prove herself, but never at the expense of pursuing meaningful relationship, of indulging in her romantic nature -- _

 

_ Tobin, with his social ineptitude, had thanked the stars every day after he met his wife, because when she smiled at him all his nervousness melted away -- _

 

_ (Lenara’s elegant dreamy grin, on the Promenade) _

 

_ Curzon, with his charm and good humor, was never wanting for company or pleasure, but he always regretted how his actions had hurt the woman he loved -- _

 

_ (Lenara’s crumpled face, pain Ezri had caused) _

 

_ Emony, sharing Trill secrets with an alien lover and having it backfire, not regretting taking a chance but having it hurt all the same not to be accepted -- _

 

_ (Lenara, looking down at her from the second level, her face apologetic) _

 

_ Torias, who didn’t listen to Nilani’s worries, whose inattention cost him his life -- _

 

_ (Lenara, crouched on the Defiant, hurt, and Jadzia’s racing terrified heart) _

 

Ezri bolts upright in bed, breathing heavily.  Once her pulse slows, she checks the time with the computer, and it alerts her to a message from Julian, which she doesn’t open.  

 

It occurs to her that of all the people in her fitful dreams, she hadn’t thought of him once.  

 

\--------

 

“Dax!  A pleasure seeing you here so early, most unusual.  Not a raktajino drinker, hmm, maybe some mint tea?”

 

Ezri, half-asleep still and preoccupied, blinks blearily up at Quark behind the bar.  “What?  Oh, lida fruit juice -- oh wait no that was Jadzia’s favorite -- umm the tangy Earth one maybe, orange?  And some dry toast.  Unless you have a decent night’s sleep in a bottle somewhere, that’s all.”

 

Quark gathers her order, frowning in sympathy at her lost expression.  “I take it you heard the news.  My condolences, but before you go blaming me, you’re better off.  Trust me.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” Ezri mutters darkly, ripping off a piece of the toast between her hands.  “But what am I blaming you for?”

 

“About Julian.  Sorry, I assumed you knew.  He packed up and left the station.”

 

“ _ Julian _ ?  Wha-- What do you mean? Where did he go?  What did you tell him?”  Ezri, suddenly awake and present, has a growing sense of dread in her stomach.  She should have read the message.

 

Quark raises his brow ridges in fake innocence, then with deliberate slowness picks up several glasses to arrange on a shelf behind him, before facing her.  “Only the truth.  That you had more chemistry with that Trill fe-male last night than you’ve ever had with him.  Don’t look so surprised; I keep track of all blossoming romances in my bar.  It’s good business and in my best interest to look out for you, as a loyal customer and a friend.”

 

“ _ You had no right _ , Quark,” Ezri throws her toast down and stands up, no longer hungry.  “Nothing even happened.  Now tell me, where did Julian go?”

 

“He fled to Cardassia.”  Quark throws his hands up, as if to say  _ don’t blame the messenger _ , even though that’s exactly what Ezri wants to do.  “Some excuse about frontier medicine and the need for decent doctors on the planet in the wake of all that death and destruction.  But you know as well as I that there’s only one heart he plans on mending for sure.”  Quark widens his eyes in a show of sympathy, his voice casual.  “So rude how ready he was to ditch you for that shady tailor on a moment’s notice, but now that your spotted lady is also about to leave the station, you should know that  _ I’d _ never abandon you--”

 

While Quark talks Ezri stares at him, still seething, but with the last sentence her face contorts in panic, and she runs out of the bar without another word.

 

“Suit yourself!”  She hears him call out after her, but she only has one person on her mind.

 

\--------

 

“Lenara!  Lenara!  Please, open up please.  Don’t leave yet, please,” Ezri calls frantically, pounding on Lenara’s guest quarters on the second level habitat ring.  She pauses, considering whether Lenara is already at the docking ring waiting for her ship.  

 

She decides to hit one more time, just in case, then the door opens.  Lenara has her hair down, tumbling over her shoulders, and is dressed in a lavender robe.  Ezri can’t think quite straight, absorbing this new intimate version of Lenara, and they stare at each other a moment without saying anything.  Lenara opens her mouth, but shuts it again, hesitating, her eyes wide and anxious.

 

“Fuck it!” Ezri half shouts, and Lenara jerks her head back.  “I mean -- I want to know you.  Fuck the Symbiosis Commission, fuck seeking out supposedly ‘new experiences’, fuck playing it safe.  I’m tired of other people deciding what’s best for me.”

 

Lenara chokes back a strangled sound, and the wide-eyed confused expression shifts into alarmed amusement… and possibly joy.

 

Taking the cue, Ezri takes a step closer, maintaining eye contact, and any lingering doubts dissolve into Kahn’s honey-starred eyes.  She closes the distance between them, until her lips brush ever so slightly against Lenara’s.  Lenara sucks in an abrupt breath through her nose, then presses forward, so that they are flush against each other-- hands tugging each other closer as if it were possible to melt into each other’s bodies, lips drinking in each other’s sweet taste as if it were an ambrosia, hearts pounding against the individual confines of their bodies as one.

 

After a long, delicious moment, Lenara pulls away, eyelids fluttering and breaths shallow.  “Wh-- what about your doctor friend-- boyfriend?”

 

“Gone,” Ezri says simply.  “He was never mine; I was never his.”

 

Lenara smiles, but it’s more strained than should be warranted.

 

A burst of anxiety rushes up from Ezri’s stomach.  “Are you-- do you still need to leave?”

 

“No.” Lenara keeps the same small smile, shaking her head.  “I was going to tell you but, I needed to be sure.  About you.”

 

“Me?”

 

Lenara shrugs and averts her eyes, demure.  “I’ve had three years to think about you, your face as I left last time.  I needed to be sure, and now I am, but you’re a different person in some ways.  I didn’t want to presume.”

 

“But you’re not leaving?  You’re not going back to Trill with your delegation.”

 

Lenara winces slightly, then says, “Not if you would like to try something new.”

 

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

 

Lenara raises her eyebrows in confusion.

 

“An earth expression, from when Benjamin got married-- and you and I have all the bases covered.”  Ezri shakes her head.  “Nevermind.  You’re not leaving?  What about your research?”

 

Lenara gives a sad shrug.  “The Trill Science Commission is discontinuing our project.  I could move on to other topics, but…  Staying in one place doesn't mean staying still.  It doesn’t mean I won’t have new experiences.  I can continue my research better on the station by myself, near the only stable wormhole in the galaxy.  Near the only stability I know for sure.”  She places a gentle hand on Ezri’s cheek.  “I like to see things through to the end.”

 

“You left.  Last time you left me, and I knew you wouldn’t come back.”

 

“I’m not like you, I needed time to figure it out.  But now that i have, I’m here.  If you want me.”

 

“You know what we’ll be giving up.”  Ezri pauses, considering the ramifications.  “The symbiosis commission has been extremely understanding of me so far; I doubt they'd begrudge me one more reassociation.  I never asked to be joined.  They’ll probably write off Ezri as a fluke and pass along Dax to a properly qualified initiate who can undo any damage they think I’ve done.  And I’m not going back to Trill any time soon anyway; exiling me is just a formality.  But you--”

 

“Fu--”  Lenara hesitates, then grins.  “Fuck it, right?  No one gets to decide our life.  Our lives.  As long as… reassociation is what  _ you _ really want.  All of you.”

 

“I tried getting back together with my ex-husband, I'm working on the same space station with mostly the same friends.  I'm doing a different job, but honestly trying to figure myself out is all the newness in this life that I can handle.”

 

“I’m not stepping into this lightly, but I understand if-- Ezri, I know you’re not Jadzia, or Torias.  I understand if you’re not willing to pay the price, but I had to find out for myself.”

 

“Nothing is like it’s supposed to be, so we may as well do what we want, what would be good for us as individuals.  Well, as individuals in a relationship-- or at least as individual as the conception of joined Trill is--” Ezri is working herself into a case of verbal diarrhea, but she can’t stop it.  “And I’m not saying we’re ‘in a relationship’ I just mean as two joined Trill who used to know each other intimately, and now still want to keep knowing each other again, however intimately, or not--”

 

Lenara beams fondly at her, then leans in to kiss her again, their lips meeting like a supernova.  “My eyes are wide open.  For once in my life, I want to take a chance.”

 

Ezri’s cheeks flush.  “Let’s make our own history, together.”

They make their way to Lenara's bed, and nothing has ever felt as grounded and safe as falling into a new tomorrow with her.


End file.
